Chapter 8 Cade
CADE
I make my way over to the garage. Pushing the door open takes more force than it should—I need to fix that hinge.
I sift through all of my drawers in an attempt to find my spotlight. Where the fuck did it go?
I swear to God one of these days I’m going to hide Jack’s controller if he keeps putting his hands on my shit.
I finally find it in a drawer that I know I didn’t leave it in, and make my way back outside to the tree line.
Calli may have thought that she saw a shadow, but I know damn well that’s not the scariest thing that could be out in these woods.
If I made any slipups on my mission, there’s a chance we could be traced back to this place.
I follow the path outside the woods, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement.
I move toward the spot Calli pointed to earlier, then stop.
I can hear a faint rustling about ten feet into the trees and turn on the spotlight, pointing it in the direction of the noise.
I dig my feet in and prepare for a fight.
A fucking deer pops its head up and immediately books it deeper into the forest.
Goddamn it, Calli…
I shake my head and make my way back to the garage, tossing the spotlight onto the workshop bench.
I look over my latest project, the birdhouse Calli wants for her garden in the backyard.
It’s not much, but that garden is the only sense of freedom I’ve been able to grant her.
So I do my best to help her spruce it up with my woodworking. Keeps my mind busy, too.
Might as well take this opportunity to pack a bag, I think, pulling out my duffel from under the bench. I begin opening all of my drawers, examining every weapon at my disposal while imagining all the things I could do to Allen when I finally get ahold of him.
I carefully and methodically pack every weapon, along with some rope and morphine.
I lift the duffel over my shoulder, pick up a canister of gasoline, and walk it over to my truck, setting the canister in the back. I open the passenger door and toss the bag inside. The only pleasure I’ll be receiving from this is knowing that the man I’m doing this to deserves it.
I’m not completely fucked in the head.
Yet.
Maybe Calli has a point. But even if she does, it won’t make a difference. I have to do this. I owe her that much. She deserves a chance to have a normal life. As normal as she can, anyway. She might be a little crazy, but who the fuck am I to talk?
And who could blame her? Our parents kept her completely isolated, and now I’m doing the same.
She is desperately trying to hold on to whatever her imagination comes up with.
Maybe she’s gone stir-crazy. I’ve kept her here to try to keep her safe.
But she is losing it, and she’s old enough now that she should be afforded a bit of freedom. Just a bit.
Jack has all the materials to make fake IDs—he pretty frequently has to make them for me. That would at least give me some peace of mind. It’s been long enough that people shouldn’t recognize her.
I walk into the office to find Jack sitting at his computer.
“Yo, I’m just finishing up that perimeter check. We’re all clear,” he says, not looking up.
“I’m aware,” I say, my voice flat. “Bambi scared her.”
“You serious?” he asks with a smile. “Bless her heart… that’s adorable.” He chuckles to himself.
I pull my brows together and change the subject.
“I want to make her a new ID. You think you can manage that before I leave?”
He rolls his chair toward me, a surprised look on his face.
“Uh, yeah. What made you want to do that?”
“She needs to get the fuck out of the house. Not too far, but going into town should be fine,” I say, shrugging.
“Hell yeah. I have the template left over from your last one. Should only take me a few hours. I got you,” he says, a little too pleased.
“Take her out, do something fun. Just get her out of her fucking head.”
“Can do, boss,” he says, fingers working the keyboard.
“Just don’t have too much fun. Keep her safe. And just to put this out there: I’m not above cutting your dick off, shoving it down your throat, and sewing your lips shut.”
Jack pauses for a moment, not acknowledging my threat.
That’s fine.
He knows I mean it.
It’s always been a concern of mine, those two, but despite his stalker-like nature and weak spot for women in general, he’s been trustworthy and is damn good at what he does.
I found him when the Covenant sent me on one of my first missions.
Jack was just a kid, but he had smuggled over a million dollars out of one of the Covenant’s offshore accounts.
I was ordered to execute him but instead, I decided to cut him a deal—one he was happy to take.
He works for me, and I give him security, a safe place, and a purpose.
He has a fetish for pulling things apart to see how they work—from security systems to people’s minds. Over the years we have become close.
The plan was always to get me and Calli out of there so we could have a life.
But when I found out about the Covenant’s plans, it didn’t take me and Jack long to organize a hasty escape.
Those two became fast friends, and after all this time I know I can trust he will do everything to keep her safe.
I sigh audibly.
“Listen. I need to thank you, Jack.” I grit my teeth. “If I didn’t have you, a lot of what I do wouldn’t be possible, and no matter what, I know she won’t be alone.”
He turns, a smile playing on his lips.
“Hey, man, you and Calli are the closest thing I have to family. I was off the deep end when you found me. You gave me a chance to prove myself, and I don’t intend on squandering that. We’re a team, a fucked-up trio going up against the man.” He grins. “I live for this shit.”
“I’m just worried about Calli. Maybe they fucked her up too much.”
“Naw, she’s more resilient than you think. We all got our own shit going on. We may not get her, but we are still here for her.” He turns back to his screens. “Stop overthinking. You’re doing everything you can. She may not like it now, but one day she will thank you for it.”
I pause at his words. He’s right. One day she will get to settle down, get married, have kids.
She will get to live the life she deserves, and it will be on her terms. That’s what has kept me going—I just don’t want to focus so much on the future I picture for her that I neglect her now.
That’s why this is a good idea. Let her have a little leash, have normal experiences with normal-ass people. That’s what I want for her.
I’ll deal with the cesspool that lingers over us. I don’t care what I have to do, or what it does to me, if it keeps her hands clean. That’s why I never wanted her involved in the first place. But she isn’t a kid anymore…
I can’t just distract her from the reality of this. I can’t shelter her from everything, no matter how much I want to.
She will keep asking questions, and keep digging for answers.
All that matters is that she is safe right now.
I grab the door handle and look over at Jack.
“I’m gonna go take a shower and finish getting ready. Leave everything on your desk and I’ll grab it in the morning.”
“No problem.”
Maybe I should be less concerned about micromanaging her and more concerned about whatever the fuck is going on with me. As much as I want to deny it, these dreams—this feeling—is really starting to fuck with me. They feel too good, too real. I keep finding that I don’t want to leave the dreams…
I make my way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind me. I turn the water on and strip my clothes off, throwing them into a heap on the floor.
I shake my head, attempting to push the thought from my mind.
It’s. Not. Fucking. Real.
I step into the shower, hoping the heat of the water will burn the thought from my mind. But it’s not enough.
I can feel you watching me.
You’re always here, in the back of my mind.
The steam curls around my body like fingers. I try to hone in on the water hitting the tile, my head bowed, palms planted on the slick wall in front of me. But I become too aware of my body, focusing too hard on my chest rising with each inhale, trembling with restraint I don’t understand.
Or maybe I do.
I grit my teeth and my eyes fall shut. The image of you forms instantly. Never your face—but your presence.
I drag my hand slowly across my abdomen, feeling the way my stomach flexes under my own touch. I wrap my hand around my cock, the pressure deliberate.
I stroke myself slowly. My thumb circling over the head, smearing the precum down my length until my grip slides. I brace against the wall, my head falling forward as I imagine it’s you touching me. I imagine your mouth tracing along my jaw. Down my neck. Over my chest.
“Yes, just like that,” I grunt.
I squeeze tighter, my pace quickening, the wet rhythmic sound filling the space. Your presence circles me as I bite back a moan, my imagination turning the water into your hands, dragging down my back.
I fuck into my hand like it’s your mouth begging to be claimed.
My muscles tense. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
My grip tightens. I’m so close… My body twitches as my pace quickens.
I jerk harder as your mouth takes me in my mind.
My head leans back as my orgasm hits hard, and I savor it.
Milking every last drop from myself, my breath ragged.
It’s not enough. I want more. I want you.